


Of Hearts and Ghosts

by antevasin



Category: Star Trek: Deep Space Nine
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Angst and Tragedy, Dominion War (Star Trek), Episode: s06e26 Tears of the Prophets, Flashbacks, Grief/Mourning, Hurt/Comfort, Interspecies Relationship(s), Jadzia Dax Lives, Multi, Other Additional Tags to Be Added, Platonic Relationships, Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder - PTSD, Trauma, but not everybody
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-03-19
Updated: 2020-05-18
Packaged: 2021-03-01 00:48:57
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death
Chapters: 3
Words: 8,583
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23206516
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/antevasin/pseuds/antevasin
Summary: The thought of being killed in war is haunting. Surviving may just turn out to be even more haunting...After Worf is killed in the first battle of Chin'toka, Dax is struggling - and in ways she did not imagine would happen. With those she could always rely on gone, she has to find an anchor in those who are left as the war and other events take a heavy toll on her. And when a light at the end of the tunnel appears, it might just turn out to be the most harrowing experience yet.
Relationships: Jadzia Dax & Benjamin Sisko, Jadzia Dax & Kira Nerys, Jadzia Dax/Kira Nerys, Jadzia Dax/Worf
Comments: 20
Kudos: 14





	1. i may not live to see our glory (but i will gladly join the fight)

**Author's Note:**

> My first attempt at a longer story! I've been thinking about this idea for ages (alright, moths at least), and I'm very excited to finally post the first chapter.  
> There is no upload schedule as of yet - I do have the whole story planned, but only written parts so far.
> 
> Title from 30 Seconds to Mars's song "Vox Populi" - often nicknamed "A Call to Arms" - which reminded me heavily of DS9 the first time I heard it.
> 
> Content warning: up right there in the Archive warnings :)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Today is not a good day to die.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> There we go, the start of my first multi-chapter fic! Title is from Hamilton's "The Story of Tonight". Enjoy!

"Take over, old man."

With a curt nod, Dax slid out of her seat at the helm, signalling to Nog to relieve her while she settled down in the Captain's chair. She threw a swift glance at Benjamin. His voice trembled with exhaustion, and only the support of Jake, who protectively held his father's arm, seemed to prevent him from succumbing to vertigo again and tumbling towards the ground whenever the Defiant rattled under Dominion fire.

"Are you sure you'll be okay?"

She kept her voice low, aware that the Captain would not want everyone to know just how deeply his latest encounter with the Prophets had shaken him. To her his utterly confused, delirium-like state was quite obvious, but after all she had known Benjamin since before this lifetime.

He nodded, eyes half closed, steadying himself against his son.

"Just get us out of here in one piece."

Dax rested her hand on his shoulder for a heartbeat before letting Jake guide him through the door. Her gaze lingered on for a moment after it closed. Then she returned her focus to the viewscreen and the battle in front of her.

"Worf! On my mark, photon torpedoes on maximum spread. Nog, prepare for evasive maneuvers… Fire!"

The heat of the fight surged through her body, a prickling sensation of adrenaline waves and the momentary breathlessness of paralyzing fear tap-dancing inside her. The Curzon that she still was, to a degree, urged her to roar battle songs, but the part that was Jadzia forced her to focus on the task ahead. They had a war to fight, and ideally to win.

* * *

The orbital weapons platforms had collapsed, and the battle was being quenched slowly like a smothered flame. Dax allowed herself a spark of optimism, grinning together with the crew, relieved at their success and convinced they were about to regain Chin'toka. On the screen, another Jem'Hadar fighter took heavy damage to its engines. Mentally categorizing it as "no longer a threat", Dax scanned the area for their next target as Acting Ensign Bulut at the communications console raised her voice.

"Sir, the Montenegro is sending out a distress call!"

"Any other ships in the vicinity?"

"Negative, Sir. We are the closest."

"Set intercept course and inform them we are on our way."

Nog nodded eagerly, letting his small hands fly over the panel in front of him. Similarly, Bulut started interacting with hers. 

Jadzia was about to order Worf to target the Cardassian warship sending a steady pulse of disruptor fire towards the Starfleet vessel when she realized he was already staring at her expectantly. "Fire at will!", she commanded instead.

A satisfied, if grim, smile spread across her husband's face as his measured bursts of phaser fire teased the enemy away from the wounded Montenegro, and warmth seeped through her belly. He was in his element, and if she had not been too busy fighting a war she could have watched him like this for hours.

The ship rocked uncomfortably as their enemy retorted at an instant, and she had to grip onto her armrests to not be flung out of the chair.

"Damage report!"

"Shields are down to fourty-seven percent. Structural integrity in the left warp nacelle is severely weakened. We are putting emergency forcefields in place, but one more hit there and we lose warp speed."

O'Brien's voice sounded stressed, which was no surprise considering the circumstances.

"You better finish this quickly."

"Nog, can you get us closer? If we hit their weapons emitter from a close distance we should be able to leave them crippled."

The Ferengi nodded, his stare intensifying as his fingers tapped in course corrections at warp speed.

"Course laid in, Sir."

Dax took a deep breath, suddenly feeling the weight of command again.

"Engage cloak."

The ship jumped a little as, invisible to the Cardassians, they neared the battlecruiser.

"Decloak and open fire!"

For one moment, only the Defiant's ammunition shooting into space was visible. Then, a flash of bright light filled the viewscreen as their opponent's hull caught fire.

"Reverse engines, now!"

As a piece of debris raced towards them, Dax did not even have the time to brace before it hit them. The Defiant was jerked sidewards, klaxons going off all over the bridge. People tumbled out of their seats, and the tactical console exploded in a tsunami of sparks.

It took Jadzia only a few heartbeats to crawl back into her seat and survey the damage.

"Worf!"

Her voice was shrill as she called out for her husband, ultimately deciding to sprint towards him instead. The console was smoldering, definitely out of use for this fight, but she was more concerned about the Klingon. His legs had been buried under the collapsed station, his uniform ragged in parts, and his burnt face seemed alarmingly still.

"They're resuming fire!"

Nog's call flashed her back to the grim reality of the war and the fact that they were still in battle.

"Shields are down to thirty-five percent!"

Dax felt too numbed to say anything, do anything before she knew whether Worf was okay. Or rather would be. That he was not in his present state was more than obvious.

"Commander?" The urgency in the Ensign's voice had increased.

Gritting her teeth firmly, the Trill stood up.

"Return fire."

It took her a second to realize that no one was there to do so, and to access the tactical functions from an auxiliary wall panel instead. She whispered an apology to Worf.

"I'll be there in just a second. Hold on, will you?"

As she mechanically targeted the wounded parts of the enemy ship, emptying their torpedo banks faster than would have been necessary, all she could see in front of her inner eye was that stubborn Klingon's face, his eyes closed, his movements ended.

* * *

She had ordered the ship to return to the station on maximum warp. Nog still manned the helm, and as right now there was no need for anyone to man the tactical console she was sitting on the ground, cradling her wounded husband's head in her lap while a Vulcan nurse indulged in endless strains of medical phrases she could not understand, and did not want to hear. All she cared for was for him to open his eyes and complain about missing the end of a battle victory. 

"Sir? The station is hailing us."

Bulut's voice reached her ears faintly, as if the sound had travelled through the opaque liquid of the symbiont pools, or all the way to Deep Space Nine and back. It took her a second to reorient herself and calm her racing pulse with a deep breath.

"Put them through."

The left half of Major Kira's concerned face appeared on the viewscreen. On the right side, static jittered in erratic waves, colours flashing, the view making Dax dizzy and bordering spacesickness. She hadn't experienced that in quite a while. But perhaps one simply felt the ship move more intensely when crouched on the ground.

"Where's Captain Sisko?"

With all her thoughts circling around Worf she had nearly forgotten the fact that Benjamin had also collapsed mid-fight. But at least he had still been moving, his body not burnt by exploding conduits and isolinear compounds… She shook her head to clear it and stretched to be visible on the screen.

"He had another vision. Of the prophets. Jake's with him, I think he'll be okay."

It cost an enormous amount of control and effort not to let her voice tremble. Of course he was Kira's priority. She would have reacted the same way, had she been left behind on the station and seen the Defiant return without him in the Captain's chair.

"The wormhole has closed. Something happened to the Prophets… I need to speak to him as soon as you get back."

The Bajoran's tone was a mixture of apology, tension and utter despair at what amounted to the sudden disappearance of her gods, and Jadzia felt a pang of sympathy. Nerys was suffering just like she was, the center of their respective worlds hurtled out of orbit.

"Major."

The Nurse raised his voice to be heard over the intercom, but despite an elevated volume it remained cold.

"Commander Worf has sustained critical injuries. I recommend an emergency transport to the station's infirmary."

"We'll beam him over as soon as you are within range."

Kira's reply came without a heartbeat of hesitation. Dax could feel her friend's eyes resting on her, but she didn't have the strength to face them right now. Whether there was pity, reassurance or stoic perseverance in them - right now, she could not deal with either emotion.

* * *

The docking bay's bulkhead had barely shifted aside enough for Jadzia to squeeze through, but she tried anyways. Her chest fluttered in panic, sounds and lights seemed artificially enhanced and she nearly jumped as something touched her arm lightly.

"I'm coming with you," Benjamin explained in a low voice, obviously trying to comfort her, but with little success.

Dax only nodded. At this moment, words seemed like something far beyond her capabilities.

The promenade was filled with people, mainly Bajorans, flocking towards their Emissary to find out what had happened, whether the Prophets were angry, what they were supposed to do now. The worrisome questions and demands were not helping Jadzia stay calm at all, and she pushed and shoved her way through towards the infirmary.

Was this how Nilani had felt, when she was told about Torias?

By the time she reached the infirmary, her heart pounded so violently she imagined it was about to break free from her chest, shattering her ribcage into a million parts before collapsing. Willpower and primitive fear battled inside her, the desire to push forward against that to block the world around her out completely. She gritted her teeth when entering.

"Julian?"

Her voice, unusually high-pitched, nearly broke from how hard it trembled.

Profound emotion welled from the doctor's eyes as she faced him. Apologies. Regret. One didn't need eight lifetimes of experience, of grief to understand exactly what was going on.

Jadzia stumbled into the surgery room, her numb legs almost giving way under the sudden weight crashing down on her shoulders. Her vision tunnelled, until all she could see was reduced to the bed and the limp figure barely twitching on top of it.

"Worf…"

Swallowing hard and biting her tongue, she fought to control her tears. If this was how it would end, she at least wanted him to see her strong one last time. He would face death with honour and courage. And, if only for him, so would she.

The Klingon opened an uninjured eye, blinked, finally focused on her.

"Jadzia."

His voice was raspy and strained, as if a single word cost him the effort of an entire battle. His breathing was shallow, too. A monitor started blinking rapidly, but she ignored it. It was too late to care about vitals. Instead, she gently took her husband's hand into one of her own, placing the other on his cheek, caressing it.

"I love you," she murmured, lacking all her usual confidence.

"I wish-" She broke off, stifling the onset of a sob.

"I wish we had had more time. But.. Every second with you was worth so much more than any day without you can take away."

Blinking, she tried to clear her vision from the tears slowly collecting in her eyes. She had to see him clearly, don't let him fade away…

"We'll have … all of eternity … in StoVoKor."

Worf's hand clutched hers tightly as he gasped for air between words.

"Don't … be too quick."

"We should have had more time!"

At any other time, Dax would have known that arguing with the universe would not get her anywhere. But with the unimaginable came the fury, the anger, the pleas. It was so unfair.

"We wanted to raise a family! I never expected it to end… like this."

"Our baby… would have been beautiful."

Her husband's eyelids fluttered, and the tight grip on her hand was beginning to lose its grasp. On the periphery of her vision, she noticed another figure entering the room, but all her energy was focused on absorbing this moment into her memory, a pain never to be forgotten.

"I love you, Worf," she whispered again, almost choking on the words.

"I always will."

The reply was so faint she had to hold her breath to understand.

"Heghlu'meH QaQ'be jajvam."

_Today is not a good day to die._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I hope you liked this entry into my very slight AU (and quarantine coping mechanism)! I might have gotten the Klingon grammar wrong - in that case I apologize. If any of you are more familiar with it, please correct my mistakes!


	2. in so deep (it feels easier to just swim down)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Where Kira muses about Klingon religion and views on death, Sisko makes a fateful decision, and Jadzia needs someone to lean on.  
> (And the writer was too lazy to look up the proper spelling of Klingon words.)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm a little conflicted on whether to tag it Kira/Dax because that's not really the focus, or at least it's not really a romantic relationship here in my view, but then again it probably looks very much like one, so tag it is. If you're hoping for some overly romantic scenes, I'll have to disappoint you - there will be a lot of hand squeezing and probably hugging too but it doesn't cross the line any further.
> 
> So, this chapter is gonna be sad. Enjoy?

Flickering candles illuminated the cave dimly, casting long shadows over cold stone walls. The air was damp, though not as warm as it would have been on Q'onoS. Two lonely figures, small against the wide hollow, stood in front of what appeared like a shrine. One was benched, as if carrying an enormous weight, the other a little more upright, though not quite in a confident posture. Their hand gently stabilized the other figure, shaken by tremors of shock and grief.

The entire scenery would have emitted an aura of profound sadness, had it not been for the music. In a stark contrast, it was upbeat and proud, leading to an almost uncomfortable dissonance. Voices loudly sang in a language that spoke of victory, not defeat, their verses celebrating life, not mourning its unpreventable end. It was the kind of song one would raise a glass to, cheer towards the future. The kind of song for before - before a battle, before a life-changing occurrence. Not a song for after.

But the hunched figures, breathing strained in the damp environment of the cave, were already tainted with experience. The pain in their muscles, their minds, their hearts was almost as visible as if worn on the outside like flesh wounds. Seemingly separated from the scenery by a solid duritanium wall, they reacted to nothing, trapped in their own memories and demons. Aside from the music, the only sound to be heard was an occasional sob. No one said a word.

After a long while, the two shapes started moving, steps small and heavy. One of them turned around for a short moment, glancing at the abandoned shrine-like object, then shook their head almost unnoticeably before leaning it against the other one's shoulders. They exchanged a few whispered words of wisdom and comfort before making their way towards the stone wall. A door appeared out of thin air, and as it closed behind the two figures the cave reverted back to the bare walls of the holosuite.

* * *

Major Kira's gaze swept the two figures slowly walking up towards her, trying her best to ignore the knot of shared pain and grief forming in her belly. Dark shades under Dax's eyes revealed that she had barely slept at all last night. Her hair was unkept, and her face swollen from crying. She focused somewhere in the distance, not seeming to notice her surroundings at all. Captain Sisko next to her didn't look much better. He was visibly fighting to keep his posture, and Kira guessed that he would have crumbled if he hadn't felt responsible to stay strong for Jadzia.

With concern tainting her expression as much as her voice, she stepped closer.

"Captain? Everything is prepared. We begin when you are ready."

She spoke softly, almost as if speaking to a scared, injured animal. In a way, she realized grimly, she was.

The Emissary drew in a sharp breath before nodding while he slowly exhaled.

"Thank you, Major..."

He paused briefly, swallowing visibly.

"I appreciate your help. We just -"

Gesturing in a vague motion, he looked at her helplessly. The sight was almost disturbing - the Emissary at a loss of words, completely drenched in his emotions, like a drowning child unable to swim and fighting a futile battle to keep their head above the surface.

"We just needed a moment."

The exhaustion in his words was only matched by regret. Or perhaps even guilt? Kira would not claim to be the strongest at reading other people, but she had enough experience with trauma to assess the kind of baggage someone carried on their shoulders. And Sisko's, regardless of its nature, was immense. She tilted her head slightly, studying the two Starfleet officers again.

"If you need more time, I'm sure we can arrange that.."

Jadzia interrupted her with a firm shake of her head.

"No," she insisted, quivering but decisive. "I need to get this over with."

Tears glimmered in the corners of her otherwise dulled eyes, and her hands trembled. Nerys reached out her own and gently touched her friend's arm. The Trill grabbed her hand and squeezed it, as if trying to find something to hold onto, a last anchor of stability. She squeezed back.

* * *

Kira Nerys had seen a lot of death, and a lot of funerals. But this was different from all the ones she had witnessed, and the most striking difference was not that it happened in space and not on Bajor. She could not even tell the Federation parts from the Klingon parts - aside from the coffin, which was clearly Federation issued. All of it felt alien to her. There was no prayer, no death chant, and even though she would not have expected it she missed the comfort it normally gave her, knowing that the dead would now walk with the Prophets.

What would happen to Worf? Jadzia had told her about Sto'Vo'Kor, which sounded similar enough to being with the Prophets by Klingon measures. If she remembered correctly, dying in battle would have guaranteed him entrance. It disturbed her - the thought of an afterlife one had to fight to enter. The Prophets accepted everyone who believed in them. Faith was the key that unlocked their door, not slaughter. She who had been forced to slaughter to keep her life more times than she cared to remember very much preferred it this way.

Sisko took his place behind a small stand and blinked down onto a Padd. He looked as uncomfortable as the first few times she had seen him participate in Bajoran festivities, tasked with the delivery of blessings he had practiced with her to pronounce them correctly and the lecture of texts he neither understood nor believed in. He had eventually become accustomed to that role, but it was starkly visible that his current somber duty was one he would much prefer to never grow used to.

"Amongst the many duties of a Starfleet Captain," he began, "there are those we enjoy doing and those we do because they are our job. There are some that we would all rather avoid."

He broke off, inhaling deeply, then swallowed before he continued.

"But there is none that we dread as much as having to give a eulogy. Because every time one of us steps in front of a crowd gathered around a coffin, it means a friend has left us. And while there are many things one can get used to over the years, this one hurts, like a stab to the heart. Every time."

Dead silence had fallen, broken only by a muffled sob. Kira let her eyes travel the room. Jadzia had one palm placed on Worf's coffin, her shoulders wracking in the rhythm of her anguish. She took one step closer, ready to offer comfort, but Sisko had already started speaking again.

"All of us are scared of losing our friends, our family. There was only one man here not afraid of Worf's death, and he's the one whom we are mourning. Worf was raised among humans, but his heart was Klingon through and through. He never feared death, as long as he was able to see it in the eye before losing the fight. He would not see his own death as defeat. For a Klingon, death in battle is sometimes as close to victory as one gets. But for those of us who admired him, who were his friends, who worked and fought with him, who loved him-"

Nerys felt the Emissary's gaze sharply meet hers as they both looked over at Jadzia, held upright by Martok's strong arms.

"For us, it feels not like victory, but failure. We have to come to terms with our defeat. Perhaps it will be some comfort to know that Worf awaited his entry into Sto'Vo'Kor with pride."

Martok - his one eye reflecting the very Klingon notion of what Chief O'Brien had once jokingly called "honourable grief" - nodded, slowly and diligently, as if approving the Emissary's words about his people's values. He stopped at Jadzia's side, placing a massive hand on her shoulder, and together they listened as Sisko put the emptiness in their hearts into words.

* * *

The eloquent sentences of the eulogy speakers had died down, and only the soft murmur of voices reached out to offer comfort remained. Chief O'Brien and Doctor Bashir sat at a table next to each other, a half-emptied bottle of some Terran alcoholic beverage between them. Kira hoped that they were still sober enough to not start singing. It would not be out of the ordinary, but she could not imagine Worf appreciating his friends trying to proclaim Klingon battle tales in song. Odo was suspiciously glaring at Quark, who offered Martok a drink on the house. The image nearly made her smile. Some things never changed, no matter what kind of terrible things happened elsewhere. The small spark of normalcy was reassuring in these times of turmoil.

Jadzia, on the other hand, had not left the side of Worf's coffin since the speeches had ended. She looked incredibly small, crouched down as if hiding from something. _Maybe from herself,_ Kira thought bitterly. For a moment she wondered whether she should interrupt her, but she was not sure whether she could offer anything that would ease Jadzia's pain - a pain all too familiar to her, yet nothing she could express well in words.

She was so caught up in her observations of what everyone else was occupied with that she did not notice Sisko nearing her until he raised his deep voice slightly.

"Major?"

"Yes, Sir?"

"At ease."

The upwards movement of his mouth could have mimicked a smile, if his eyes were not still staring monotonously, as if blind to their vision, and his every word speaking exhaustion. Not the kind of exhaustion that resulted from lack of sleep or excess of exercise, but the kind that befell people when they witnessed one tragedy too many in too short a time. It was the kind of exhaustion she had grown up amidst. But contrary to the Bajoran rituals that had also been part of her childhood, it offered no comfort - only a vague seething pain inside her belly, the pain of powerlessness to change things.

"Sir - Captain. Is there anything you would like me to do? I know this is very hard on you."

Briefly she wondered whether she had overstepped a line or whether by now their friendship was close enough for such a comment even in the presence of witnesses. But Sisko only shook his head.

"There is something I would like to discuss with you later. But it's not urgent, if you are busy."

"Not at all. Please, let me know."

Relieved to have something else than the funeral to focus on, she tilted her head slightly backwards to make eye contact with her taller Commanding Officer. He seemed to have aged a lifetime between yesterday morning, when he had led the Defiant out into battle, and now that he stood in front of her bent like an old man carrying the guilt of an entire civilization.

Grimly, she realized that this was how she had often wished to see Dukat one day. Admittedly, she had not liked the Federation much more than the Cardassians in the beginning. But a lot had changed since the fateful day that Starfleet took charge of the station, and now those people in the strangely bright-coloured uniforms had become familiar, had become her friends. The uniforms had become more subdued as their optimism had dulled over the years. And now she was facing a broken human, resembling more the disillusioned Commander he had been on his first day than the decisive and headstrong Captain she now knew him as.

It suddenly dawned on her what he was about to say, and they both blurted out simultaneously, her eyes wide in disbelief, his fixed on his shoes apologetically.

"You're leaving."

"I'm taking a leave of absence."

* * *

Ops was never quiet. It was a place where people chatted about their day, worked out the origins of inexplicable spatial phenomena together, gossiped about this or that colleague's newest romantic run-in at Quark's, carefully tested the ground in encounters with alien vessels setting foot into the Alpha quadrant, and occasionally - or in Kira's case, a little more often - yelled at some repugnant Cardassian's face plastered on the viewscreen or kicked at malfunctioning devices in the hopes of rousing them.

But now, the soft beeping of the consoles running continuous perimetric scans and the hum of the station's energy systems keeping life support and artificial gravity running seemed like a disturbance of due silence.

Everyone stared at the Captain, who, a heavy-looking bag dragging down one of his already sunken shoulders, slowly made his way across the room in which he had spent most of his wake hours of the past six years. His gaze travelled the length of the walls, as if he wanted to burn the image onto his retinas forever, just in case he would never see it again. Jake, staying close to his father's side, suddenly seemed to have grown from a child admiring his father to an adult hovering over their aging parent. It would have been comical, if it hadn't been so disturbing.

"The station is yours, Major."

"She'll be here when you get back."

She straightened her back, head held high, forcing her voice to not tremble like her blinking eyelids. It might be easy to hide fear, but it was far less easy to hide concern for those you cared about. Regardless, she could not allow herself to show that kind of weakness now. She had to stay strong - for the station, for Captain Sisko, and for Dax too, who after Worf was now losing the man who had been a rock in stormy waters for her, and she for him.

 _At least temporarily,_ she added, a little too quickly. Just temporarily.

"This leave of absence you're taking, Sir, how long do you think you'll be gone?"

"I don't know exactly."

"We'll be waiting."

Even Odo, usually a mask of stoicism, was visibly moved. It was both relieving and frightening. Who, if not him, could serve as an assurance to everyone else that everything would go on as usual? Kira knew that not only for her, his steadfast support was invaluable, especially when the station seemed to spin too fast to catch her breath.

"Good luck, Sir."

Sisko reached out his hand, the Chief shaking it in a very human display of respect. Or was it friendship? A silent signal of support? Even after all these years, she was never really sure about the hidden meanings behind all those alien gestures. Of course, it could just have been a farewell.

"Thanks, Chief… My thanks to all of you."

Sisko's gaze lingered on Jadzia for a moment. She returned it, glaring in silence. There was no need to speak. The heaving of her chest paired with the pained accusation in her eyes said everything.

"I'm so sorry," the Emissary whispered, his voice - even deeper than usual as grief and guilt weighted heavily on it - barely audible, yet echoing through the entire room all at once.

Almost unnoticeably, Dax nodded, not quite accepting the apology, but acknowledging the words that had been uttered.

"Let's go home, Jake."

As her Captain climbed the steps towards the turbolift, his hand resting on his son's shoulder, Kira moved closer to Dax, allowing her friend to lean on her for support. A hand searched for hers, and she grasped it firmly.

"Whatever it is, I'm here for you," she murmured, quiet enough so that no one else would hear.

"And not just because I'm responsible for all of you now."

That was something she would have to get used to. Once she had stopped fighting against the human Emissary, she had become so used to being his right hand - sometimes opposing, sometimes supporting, but always with the knowledge that she could count on him and he could count on her. Now, there would be one more staring gap in the tightly woven net of trust and friendship that time had knitted between the station's senior officers.

"Not as your Commanding Officer," she repeated. "But as someone who knows what it's like to lose the people you love. And above all, as your friend."

Her gaze met Jadzia's, and for just a heartbeat she thought she saw gratitude surfacing above the pain.

"Landing pad C."

As the turbolift slid down, moving towards the Runabouts, Kira caught a glimpse of the baseball in the Captain's left hand, being kneaded and turned around as if to give his owner some occupation to distract him from everything else that was going on.

The hand seeking comfort in hers clenched tight.

"I was afraid of that…"

_He's not sure he's coming back._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The title is again from a Hamilton song, this time "It's quiet uptown" (which is an incredibly sad song and put me in the perfect mood to write this chapter). The final dialogue scene might seem familiar - I rewatched the ending of Tears of the Prophets a few times and just adapted it to suit my needs. I'm actually prouder of the result than I had expected, so I hope you liked it too!
> 
> Comments are love :)


	3. when a heart burns out (a new one shall come in)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> _It came back, bit by bit and piece by piece._
> 
> While Kira has to deal with running the station almost on her own, Jadzia has some things of her own to deal with.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I should probably have started this earlier, but welcome to a list of content warnings!
> 
> The following chapter contains mentions of drinking, mental illness, trauma, PTSD, flashbacks, mention of suicidality (not directly part of the story, just a single offhand mention), (past) drug use  
> (Please let me know if you think there are specific things I should warn for! I'm not entirely sure about anything regarding AO3 practices yet.)
> 
> With that out of the way, I hope you enjoy reading! (Well, as much as a dark story like this can actually be enjoyable.)

"Come in."

Quietly, Kira slipped through the door to find the room seemingly empty. She pricked her ears, trying to pick up any clue as to where she would find the person she was looking for. When she got no immediate response, she ventured further. Nothing in the room had changed since the last time she had been in here, which considering how much had changed in their lives was more than a little surprising. Then again, not even three days had passed, and there was only so much that could have been done.

"Jadzia?," she called, still unable to detect the Trill anywhere and not wanting to intrude. "It's me. There's something I need to talk to you about."

From behind a sofa, Dax scrambled to her feet. She was still wearing the dress uniform she had apparently not taken off since the funeral. The jacket was crumbled, her hair hung loosely out of its clip, and she swayed for a second before finding her balance. Kira examined her critically.

"Are you drunk?" The smell of blood wine was stronger than expected, even in these quarters where almost every shelf seemed to harbour a storage of the liquor.

Jadzia shook her head, then clung onto the sofa's armrest to stay upright. "Just talk to me. Doesn't matter if I'm drunk or not. It all doesn't matter."

She flopped back to the ground, leaning against the sofa as her voice broke and she wiped her eyes. Kira lowered herself next to her friend, trying to not let her insecurity at handling the situation show. _You're in charge,_ she very sternly reminded herself. _If you don't do it, no one will._ She took a deep breath. How in the world had Captain Sisko coped with this? Or had he just been lucky to never be tossed into the exact situation she found herself in now? Jadzia didn't sound like her usual self at all, and yet she really had other things on her mind than playing counselor. Not that she would be any good at that job either. So she settled for what seemed the simplest way out: coming straight to the point.

"Starfleet's granting you a field promotion. To Commander, and First Officer."

Dax stared at her blankly. Kira stared back.

It took a few seconds until the true meaning of the words seemed to have reached Jadzia's consciousness. When they did, her lower lip started trembling, and she quickly shook her head before instantly stopping the motion and clenching her eyes shut. _Just how much blood wine did she drink?_

"No," she whispered. "Please, Nerys, not now." She pulled her legs closer, resting her head on her knees.

Kira resisted the urge to kick her in the side and awkwardly placed her arm on Jadzia's shoulders instead. She wasn't here to comfort a grieving widow, she was here to promote her First Officer - but she had promised Dax to be there for her, had promised Sisko to take care of her.

"I'm sorry," she replied gently. "I know this isn't easy for you. But they're not leaving me much of a choice."

Dax looked up, opening her eyes which were stained red, probably from both the alcohol and crying.

"Starfleet's stretched pretty thin," she went on to explain. "They promised to find someone they can put on the Defiant, but it will take some time until we can expect any reinforcements. And you need someone with experience for first officer."

"Can't Julian do it? Or Odo?"

"Last time I checked Odo was just as much a member of Starfleet as I am," Kira commented dryly. "Julian isn't command qualified, and having a doctor as first officer makes no sense on a military outpost. You're all I have."

The Trill took a deep breath, trying to still the tremble in her body. "I'm not sure if I'm any help to you right now."

She sounded tired, more tired than Nerys had ever seen her, and she suspected it was not purely due to lack of rest. "That's okay," she reassured. "We'll work it out." Jadzia's head sunk down on her shoulder, and they succumbed to an uneasy silence.

* * *

"I just don't know what to do, Odo! From one day to the next I'm in charge of this station, of Starfleet military operations in the entire sector, for Prophets' sake, there's a bunch of believers angry at the Emissary for leaving, and the one person who is supposed to help me is just -" She took a breath, trying to find the words to describe Jadzia's state. "Destroyed. Completely lost herself." She paced the Security Office, always turning sharply on her heels before she ran into a wall.

Odo looked at her with that intense, investigative gaze that indicated he was in problem-solving mode. That was good. She needed someone with a clearer head than hers to help her figure out a way out of this dilemma.

"It is not unheard of for humanoids to exhibit certain unusual behaviours after the death of someone they were close to," he noted. "In my studies I have found that various cultures assert the grieving process different importance. In Klingon culture, for example, this depends on the way of death - a death in battle is to be celebrated, a dishonourable death to be kept silent about, death due to illness or accident may be moaned for as long as the deceased has not been secured a place in Sto'Vo'Kor by their heirs. In Romulan culture -"

"That's interesting to hear, Odo," she intercut, "but it doesn't help me understand why Jadzia is sitting on the floor of her quarters getting drunk and hasn't even changed her uniform in two days! When Antos died, I was sad, I was angry, I missed him, but I kept myself together because there were more important things to do! Besides, Dax is as Klingon as a non-Klingon can be, and Worf died in battle, so by that logic she should be celebrating!"

"I have also read various accounts of people who were unable to cope with death in one way or another, and developed serious illness or wish of death, most notably if they held themselves responsible."

"But that's ridiculous!" She shook her head and raked her hand through her hair. Anger still pulsed through her veins, irritation at why her job had to be made so much more difficult so suddenly and without warning. "Why would Dax hold herself responsible? We're at war!"

"I believe you may be overlooking the circumstances here," Odo began to explain. "During the attack in which Worf was injured, Dax was in fact in command of the Defiant, and according to Starfleet protocols the officer in command at the time of death is assigned a certain responsibility if they could have prevented the incident. In most cases of course no charges are pressed, since Starfleet personnel is usually aware of the dangers that comes with their job, but technically, she is indeed partially responsible."

Kira stopped pacing and sat down on the desk. "They're just not used to it, right?" Her voice had fallen low, and her head dropped too. "They're so used to their perfect utopia that as soon as it cracks, they think they have done something wrong. They're so used to being privileged that when they're not something must have upset the universe. They're so used to… paradise."

Almost whispering the last sentence, she looked back up at Odo. The Changeling had tilted his head and searched her face with his gaze. He extended one arm and laid it onto her shoulder.

"Did I tell you that's why the Captain left? Because he said he could not take this anymore, at least not for a while? Could not take seeing so much death, so much despair day in, day out? He blames himself for Worf's death too, you know? Said he could barely look Jadzia in the eye." Nerys let out a deep sigh, releasing the tension that had been building up in her since her conversation with Dax earlier that day. "None of them would have lasted even a few days on Bajor."

For a few heartbeats, silence hung between them, pregnant with unsaid words and unexpressed emotions. Then, Odo remarked: "But you did."

The words remained in her thoughts for a long time after she had left his office.

* * *

The next weeks flew by so fast that Kira barely had time to catch her breath. When she wasn't busy watching Dominion activity, she was talking - or rather arguing - with Starfleet. Upon Bashir's insistence that Vedeks alone could not be responsible for counselling, she had requested the station be assigned a Starfleet psychologist, but as most of her requests it had been unsuccessful. At least the Defiant had been assigned a new First Officer. Lieutenant  
Th'kaahrok was young and inexperienced in giving commands, but he was a capable tactical officer. Still, when Dax and her had gone over the starship's new crew manifest it had reminded her more of her resistance days than anything since she had been stationed on Deep Space Nine. This Federation barely resembled the one that had boldly proclaimed to rebuild and protect Bajor. Now they were assigning more enlisted personnel and cadets to their most powerful warship than actual officers. The fact that Nog, who had been fast-tracked to Ensign, was considered a senior officer now spoke worlds.

She was on course towards the temple when her combadge beeped and she received a call. "Uhhhm, Colonel? Can you hear me?" She was about to reply when the voice continued. "It's Rom, I-I'm sorry, uhh, I'm so sorry, I forgot, to say who I am."

Her face couldn't help but lit up in a smile. "I know, Rom," she assured. His way of speaking stood out among most officers. Still, even when he messed up protocols sometimes, she had to admit she liked him. Not only was he smarter than one would think - an excellent quality for an infiltrator, now that she thought about it - but he also gave his best to be polite by the standards of a culture so different from his own. If only Quark would put in half his brother's effort…

"Right," the engineer replied. "I- uhh, Colonel, I think you better take a look at this."

"Where are you?" She fastened her pace. It could very well be nothing important - Rom found a lot of things utterly fascinating and many of them were anything but crucial for station operations. But then, he had also been the one to come up with self-replicating mines for the wormhole. There was a genius in him, it just hadn't learned to filter and prioritize yet.

"I'm, uhh, in my brother's bar, and, I think, -"

"On my way." Quark's wasn't far, and she reached the place before Rom could make any more specifications. It wasn't needed. When she entered the bar, she could instantly spot a small crowd of people forming a ragged circle around a table. Rom was among them, apparently trying to call them to order.

"Everyone-! Everyone go, uhmm, go somewhere else, go to the bar. Everyone - leave!" He clapped his hands. Naturally, no one listened, but when did the bar's customers ever? Kira weaved through in between the tables until she reached the crowd. At her appearance, most of them dispersed towards the Dabo tables and the upper level, probably hoping to catch a glimpse from above.

Rom had lowered himself to the ground. "It's al-right," he promised, "I- uhhm, the Colonel's here."  
Following his voice, she too crouched around the table to spot the Ferengi kneeling next to a trembling figure curled into a corner, making sounds like a wounded animal. It took her a second to recognize Dax. In the same moment, she knew what was happening. She stretched out a hand.

"Jadzia? It's me, Nerys. Can you hear me? Do you know who I am?" The Trill slowly raised her head, but her eyes were staring off into the distance, bearing a hunted expression. Her breath came fast and ragged, as if she was running from an invisible enemy. She opened her mouth and for a moment Nerys hoped she would speak, but only a stifled sound came out.

"Shhhhh," she soothed. "Rom's right, it's okay. You're safe. But I think we should go somewhere else, don't you?" She slowly moved her hand further until she touched Jadzia's arm. Her friend jerked, then let out a shuddering breath as her tear-stained eyes gradually found back their focus.

"Nerys?" The word was barely a whisper, but inside she celebrated it as a huge victory.

"Yes," she whispered back. "Can you get up?"

Jadzia looked unsure, but managed to get her feet sorted enough to pull herself up at the table. Kira wrapped an arm around her to keep her upright. "Very good," she murmured. "Now we'll go to your quarters, okay?" Dax nodded, stiffly moving one foot, then another. Kira made a mental note to thank Rom for the way he tried to usher the customers aside as they made their way to the Promenade.

* * *

Normally, the walk between Quark's and her quarters was always too short to finish up the conversation she was having. But right now, it felt like an eternity. The ground beneath her shook in erratic waves and she could barely set one foot in front of the other. Something was squeezing her chest tight, or perhaps the air supply was malfunctioning - in any case, breathing required all her attention, and her thoughts were almost drowned out just by the sound of her heartbeat. Someone yelled - was that Nog? She couldn't hear him, struggled to focus, she needed to hear what was going on, she was in command-

Her legs momentarily gave in, but she was pulled back up and dragged forward. Where were they going? The Defiant was under fire, she had to stay on the bridge, where was Benjamin, or Worf, were they okay? A scream cut through her ears, and she couldn't pinpoint whether it was her own or not, blood trailed down Worf's cheek, Benjamin collapsed into his son's arms, Jake let out a wail, the ship turned over and she tumbled sideways, falling, falling, the stench of burnt metal and electronic components turning every breath into torture…

The ground collided with her and she remained motionless, head spinning, ears pulsing, throat dry and swollen tight, face hot and stained wet, choking on her own breath, helplessly gasping for air like an aquatic Selkie in one of Vulcan's deserts. She blinked, once, twice, a third time, until her vision cleared somewhat and her eyes revealed a familiar room. With the pounding in her head and the odd feeling that everything was trembling, it was hard to make out details at first, but after a while she recognized it as her bedroom. She was curled into a tight ball, lying on the ground, all alone.

"Jadzia? Are you back?" A voice drifted towards her, like through thick smoke. _Not entirely alone._

Chest and throat were still too tense to speak, so she nodded weakly.

"I'm putting my hand on your shoulder. If you don't want that, shake your head, okay?" She nodded again. The voice, too, was familiar. It wasn't her mother… perhaps her sister? The hand met her shoulder, too firmly to be her sister's… _Kira._ Her mind was slowly clearing up, like Andoria after an ice storm. _Kira Nerys. Why is she here? What happened? Why am I so tired?_

It came back, bit by bit and piece by piece. The nightmares of the past few nights. Waking up drenched in sweat, pulse racing, unable to fall asleep again. Two Raktajinos before the start of the morning shift. Keeping busy, working overtime, numbing her pulsing body with one of Quark's overpriced creations before falling into bed half dead, hoping to oversleep through the nightmares, without success. Overexerting herself in the holosuites, wielding her Bat'leth as if it could slay the demons that chased her every time she lay to rest, her lack of concentration leading to more than one session ending with a bruised arm or sprained ankle, others with the weapon dropping out of her hands as she broke down on the ground in tears of exhaustion and suppressed pain. Limping back to her quarters without being caught by Julian during one of his lunches with Garak - she could not risk being relieved of duty, no, she could barely take the hours she wasn't occupied by work. Visiting the bar tonight and suddenly, without explanation, being thrown back into her nightmares - had she fallen asleep? She couldn't recall that, but it must have been the case, there was no other explanation…

"Jadzia? Can you sit up?" That was Nerys again. She nodded, then lifted her head off the ground first. It felt heavy and light simultaneously, as if it wasn't quite part of her, attached to her body but still far away.

"Tired," she mumbled as she eventually got her upper body back into a vertical position. Then: "Nerys? What's happening to me?"

An arm folded around her, gently pulling her closer, and she let it, until her whole side leaned against the Bajoran. She let out a breath she hadn't been aware she'd been holding, then, with a shiver, hauled in more air. The hand moved towards her back, stroking it in a motion synchronized with her breathing.

"We called them waking nightmares. In the Resistance." Kira's voice drifted off, and Jadzia wasn't quite sure whether that was because she was losing her grip on reality again or whether it was Nerys losing herself in memories. A finger drew chaotic patterns on her back. "Everyone got them, some more often, some less, but it was different for each of us. Some dreamt of things they had seen, others just heard a voice or explosions or their parents' last words. Some saw things that weren't real, mixed up places and people."

"What did you… dream of?" Using dreaming as a description for whatever this was seemed weird. Had she been asleep, or awake? It felt very much like a vivid nightmare, just like Nerys had said, but had she actually been awake yet so far removed from the world around her?

The arm still tugging her in tightened. "At first, my father's death. Later, my friends were in his place, those who still lived, and I abandoned them like him."

Dax nestled out her hand and took Nerys's in hers. Squeezing it once, both to show support when she could not frame it into words and to anchor herself, she asked: "How does it go away?"

"Dax." Kira's voice had changed, only a little, an almost unnoticeable nuance, but it meant everything. Both of them turned their heads until the Colonel's eyes burnt into hers. Her chest heaved as she took a deep breath. "They never go away. You just learn to live with them."

"How?" Her voice had become immeasurably small, the news punching all the air back out of her lungs. She had to fight to remain in control, and blink the approaching tears away.

Kira shrugged. "We did what we could. Lots of praying. Laying bare our faults, mistakes and guilt in front of the Prophets. Over time, we saw it coming in ourselves and each other, tried to pull them back to the present. Some can't speak or hear when they're trapped in a waking nightmare, some can't move, it can be dangerous. It gets better when you can get away from where the visions are set, and worse when you're back in that place. The worst is when you can't sleep either because of normal nightmares. Most of us took some form of sleeping herbs. Didn't always work, but better than nothing."

She let her head sink against Jadzia's as heavy silence filled the room, both women caged in their own experiences. Jadzia's heart felt like its mass had doubled or tripled in just a day or two, and even the symbiont's squirming seemed to have surmised. The thought of running into another of these was haunting to say the least, and made her stomach clench in nausea. It was bad enough that she had lost control over her life, did she now also have to lose control over her mind?

"Perhaps you should talk to the doctor."

She jerked up, accidentally kicking Kira's head off hers. "Don't force me to tell Julian. Please. He'll take me off duty - I can't do that, Nerys, please, I need to work, I need to stay busy-"

She broke off her sentence when she was gently but firmly pressed back to the ground. "If he tries that, I'm going to give him a lecture that he won't forget in a while, believe me. But you at least need something to help you sleep, and I don't want to risk trying some unapproved drugs that have never even been tested in other species. Now, I bet the Federation has a bunch of things that you're supposed to do as usual, something ridiculous like… visit a holocounselor or something, but - the point is that if you find something that helps, you do it. Whether that's taking sleeping meds or slaying Jem'Hadar in the holosuites or even just working. We're at war, for Prophets' sake, and if those Starfleet regulations don't help us to win it then I don't care whether Julian breaks all of them."

Dax looked up. Kira's face was decorated with a disarming smile, and almost instinctively she felt her own face light up slightly. In response, Kira's grin grew even wider. She stretched out her hand.

"Come on, the faster we leave the faster we're back."

With a sigh, Jadzia took the offered hand and let herself be pulled up. She felt lighter than she had in weeks when Nerys guided her out of the room.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This story is taking me a lot longer than I thought, but I didn't want to rush the chapter - I'm doing my best to not mess up the portrayal of trauma, but I'm neither a professional nor a survivor, just someone who did a little bit of research, so if I got something way off PLEASE let me know.
> 
> This chapter was originally intended as setup for Big Plot Point in chapter 4, but turned out to be probably my favourite so far? I should probably feel guilty for putting these characters through hell.
> 
> Chapter title is from Sunrise Avenue's "Thank you for everything", a song I love a lot and that felt fitting.

**Author's Note:**

> Feedback about anything is wholeheartedly encouraged, no matter whether it's about formatting, character voice or anything else! Comments are love :)


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